


Visitation

by OnBehalfOfTheBunnies



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 19:23:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16290305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnBehalfOfTheBunnies/pseuds/OnBehalfOfTheBunnies
Summary: Oliver gets a surprise visitation to his incarceration at Slabside





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Has it really been over two months since I touched this draft :/ It's a short one so will clean up the "present" time of it hopefully tomorrow and post.
> 
> Trying my best to do an Oliver POV, writing first person for it is not really my forte but I am making the attempt.
> 
> Also, not this chapter but next will be explicit, if that's not your thing/not your age range, skip it.

There is no clock, only shift changes, meals, and what little sunlight that comes in through the window to track the time. Every other day, when not in lockdown, I get a scant hour of the ability to walk around the small fenced in area they generously call the yard, followed by an optional shower for a few minutes. The monotony makes the days blur and time feel like it’s slowing. Only the tally of soap marked on the wall gives me a record of the days passing.

It’s not safe, _I know it’s not safe_ , to get visitors, or at least the visitors I want. A couple lawyers wrote, wanting to file an appeal for me. They were not added to my approved list. I had a flood of mail for the first month, as many letters from fans of The Arrow as from those who hate him…us… _me_. The guards comment on the ones that are deemed ‘ _not conductive to my rehabilitation_ ’ and don’t make their way in, especially the rather explicit pictures of the admirers. They act as if I’d actually want to see them, which I don’t, but I only continue to read the, slowly reducing in numbers with every passing week, fan and hate mail to make sure they’re not the coded letters I _wait_ for, _hope_ for, the ones that _don’t come_.

Eventually a single one did. It held a photo of Felicity and William from home, and a short line of text stating that they’re safe, written and sent by John, before I was approved for visits.

I don’t really know what I expected when making this deal, other than the fact that I was sacrificing my privacy, right of choice, and freedom to protect everyone I cared about when I couldn’t do it myself. Being imprisoned isn’t a new experience for me, but the boredom that leaves me dwelling in my thoughts is the worst of it. _Nearly the worst_. Not knowing how _they_ were doing, replaying those last few days, every missed or foiled opportunity to end things and try for the life we wanted. Over and over they play out, while I sleep, while I read, while I pace and push myself to exhaustion using my own bodyweight to strengthen muscle because there’s not a damn thing I can do in here.

Every night, and when I don’t sleep for long enough that the nightmares invade my mind as day terrors between blinks that last for an eternity too long. All these criminals, many of whom I’ve at least helped put away, surrounding me just serve as a reminder of those I haven’t, those who still roam free. I see those I care about in those unrealities. Under the muzzle of a gun like the choice between my mother and sister, or Shado and Sara, but this time, no matter the answer given or withheld both are shot. Chase somehow coming back to life and torturing not just me and his pet kid in the cell but everyone, lining them up, within sight and just out of reach, making me a helpless voyeur of their pain.

Of course there are the ones imagining Dragon hunting them down, appearing anywhere and everywhere they should be safe. Then there are the ones that the nightmares don’t provide a face to accuse. Car crashes. Freak accidents. Implausibilities where William needs a transfusion and if only I were out I could easily give my blood, but instead the supply is out and no one else can help. The ones where Felicity takes William camping, something I know she wouldn’t do because she complained every hour of our hike along the Pacific Crest Trail, saying only the kisses and the nights made up for the bugs, and sweat, and mud, and fast storms, and the bears, and the _oh-my-god-how-much-longer-is-this-incline_!? But even so, in those haunts of my sleep I can hear them talking in a tent before someone unseen, a shadow against the illumination charges, then the screams for each other in confusion, demands to run turning to just noises of pain…the only thing worse is the silence that follows. _God damn the silence_. I wake from those in cold sweats with bruises in my palms where I squeezed my fists so hard my nails nearly tore through my skin.

Those nightmares have nothing on the ones where either of the pair of them come, in turns, to the prison, red eyed and bruised, telling me the other couldn’t handle it anymore. The problems and the fear leading in a turn to drugs, or the hollow retelling of the small act the other chose that ended in death. I know they’re both stronger than that, that those options wouldn’t even enter their realm of options, but my unconscious mind doesn’t care about what’s real.

No stranger to lack of privacy, I kept to myself at first, trying to block out the sights and sounds of the inmate across from my cell as he made baited comments, and taunts while threatening or jerking off during lights out as the guards made their rounds...a few weeks went by before it really got under my skin and made my self control itch for a better outlet than my workouts.

I made it months, trying to be on my best behavior. The first fight was anticlimactic. One idiot, dangerous to be sure, but he thought he could actually take me on and win? By himself? He couldn’t have had any idea about the nightmares that rode my thin grasp of patience the night before, could not have felt the need to protect my family vibrating along my nerves and pounding a mantra in my head. He didn’t know his taunts were going to snap that tightly held leash of control with the quip about how ‘ _at least my girlfriend made it out twice this year_ ,’ and was ‘ _that wife of yours, the tight piece from the TV, too busy_ _workin’ her way through every other costumed freak to visit? She looks like the type who needs it dirty on the regular_.’ I had him on the ground, incapacitated while I forced myself to walk away before the guards could even notice a disruption.

That didn’t go over well with the pecking order of those who thought they deserved a bit of revenge for my putting them here. It also didn’t help that as I started getting more frustrated, more bored, more _angry_ , I started baiting them and picking fights, especially the ones who thought they were untouchable. The pain felt better than worrying for a few minutes, aggression a razor focused distraction, even if I lost privileges for it, even if they sent me to solitary a few times when my restraint was gone. No one died, I think…I’m pretty sure…maybe, but the challenges grew fewer, further between, and with a larger ratio of them verses me.

It’d been over a week since I got a real shower, stuck in my cell after leaving someone unconscious following John’s visit. He couldn’t tell me much, he didn’t know where Felicity and William were, but Lyla said they were still checking in weekly and were “ _doing fine_ ” in their faked identities. No word from my sister, the threat of Richard Dragon still looming over Star City, and just the other day apparently someone in a costume that looked like mine decided to make themselves known, which would explain why I got the extra attention from the guards between standard counts. After not being able to sleep for two days from nightmares the powerless feeling had to go. I had instigated the next fight, pressed a few harder than they could let drop and had just broke someone’s face through a tiled divider when a trio of guards entered the showers.

The only reason I didn’t end up in solitary was due to the fact that it had the appearance of an ambush. After all, it’s hard to look like the guilty party rather than self defense when the others were fully dressed and had a few well made shivs, while I didn’t have so much as my towel within reach. I still ended up with two weeks loss of privileges and by my count I was slightly over halfway through.  But a cage is a cage, losing a couple minutes of sunshine wasn’t going to break me, neither were the damp towel scrub downs at my sink to keep the grime and stink of sweat away to make up for the lack of antiperspirant.

}]}———}>


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, accidentally nodded off a couple times while trying to give this a once over, sorry. The rest will have to wait for tomorrow or Tuesday.

Drinking a handful of tepid water from the bare sink I mentally catalog the contents and space of the dark cell as my eyes linger on that one picture. It’s blotchy in the faint glow of the dim nighttime lights. It’s funny, I always had issues sleeping in absolute darkness, and now I’m guaranteed not to have it. Everything, what little there is, is in its place, and as the guard makes their circuit around the second floor I stretch my arms up to feel for the bar, debating doing a few pull ups to pass the sleepless hours.

I stare out into the familiar view. Wanting to think I’m too bored to sleep, in actuality I dread it too much. The nightmare last night, both of them screaming for me... A bullet through her, that sent Felicity down and managed to split an artery when it tore through William’s neck, his gasping struggling ending before the second bullet went through her head…

It felt real and had my nerves wound raw well into the afternoon. Somewhere into my second set of repetitions, frustrated energy is still burning, when I see it. The emergency lights flicker to life once as an alarm somewhere starts to blare. Dropping to my bare feet I tense as a different red glow enters my cell, causing the hair on my arms raises, and a feeling almost like static buzzes over my skin. Instinct has me starting to twist the thing that grabs me into a throw before my mind catches up and I recognize the voice from right beside it.

“No! Oliver wait!” That voice, a dream and nightmare at once, and the strong familiar scent of her perfume has me stopping myself from the demanding urge to keep anyone from touching me in here even as the glowing blur lifts from the floor and she is dragged up to her toes with it.

My voice is barely a whisper, “ _Felicity?_ ”

Barry wheezes out in his masked voice, “ _Choking me-_.” Letting my hand drop I force myself back a step. He slows enough to come into focus and lose the glow of speed as his fingers tighten around my arm.

The reminder of the hoarse screams of the last nightmare confuses things. Usually the nightmares feel real, not recognizable as separate from reality until after I wake up. _When did I fall asleep?_ Clenching my hand I can feel the damp skin, or what my mind imagines is still damp skin. _No._ _Wake up._ It’s always been horrible, but the nightmares have never been in this cell. I’ve had that one peace. Seeing both of them here…I’m not sure why I’d imagine Barry, but I know it won’t end up good.  “ _Leave_.”

Felicity ignores the warning, reaching towards my face, “Oh god, Oliver, what happened to you? John’s message said you were looking rough but your-”

_Can’t let her touch me…_ Shame or embarrassment, something I haven’t felt since I got here, burns under my skin as I duck away ever so slightly out of her reach despite the urge to lean into that attempted contact. In the faint light I can see her eyes narrow, like she can read it on me and while the concern doesn’t fade, irritation is added to it.

_You should see the other guys._

Barry’s grip is tight on us, enough that I can feel slight flinch from one or both of them and realize the quiet thought slipped out. I can blame the fact that I’m off balance by the disruption to the routine of this cell but it won’t take the words back. Not like I could.

The tone of the words she said sinks in. Not confusion. Not accusation. Not in pain. This doesn’t feel like one of my dreams. _No. This…this can’t be real…it can’t._ It’s not safe, real or dream, for her here. The bright colors on the pair are glaring in contrast to the dull monotony of beige and gray, even in the shadows feel so welcome and so wrong. _Treat this like it’s real. Just in case_. “ _Get out!_ ” I don’t know why the alarms haven’t continued, why the raucous attention of the other inmates hasn’t started, but they need to get far away from here before they’re caught. _The immunity deal won’t protect her from this_. Barry doesn’t let go of his grip on my wrist and there isn’t enough room in the cell to get out of range. “You can’t be here, it’s trespassing, they’ll-” Everything in me freezes, “William! Is he-?”

“He’s fine. I’m fine. Better than you _apparently_.”

I haven’t seen her other than the single picture since that news conference, and even in the near dark my eyes are aching, trying to reassure me that my mental image of her is still correct.

_It’s too dangerous for her to be here, for her, for me._

I can’t let her work through the protective mask I’ve put around myself. My voice is brusque, “Flash, get her out of here, get yourself out before-” Felicity has none of my qualms about contact, jerking Barry with the motion while launching herself at me. I fight with myself and fail, instinct has my free arm wrapping around her, taking a deep breath as my chin bumps the top of her head while mentally cursing my weakness.

Her voice is muffled against my chest, “I cashed in all my favors when I heard about the new perk of his powers, this shared ‘Flash Time’ that he didn’t bother to tell me about himself!”

There is defensiveness in his voice, an immediate rebuttal, “You’re in the middle of nowhere!”

Her unrestrained hand pushes up to rest over my heart as she glares back at him, “I talked to all of you three times and still had to read about it in the future time-traveling-daughter’s, _who-you-and-your-wife-also-didn’t-bother-to-tell-me-about_ , notes!”

All kinds of discomfort strains the masked voice, “Possible, _future_ daughter, you know how the timelines are. And don’t say time-traveling like you’ve forgotten about the Legends.”

“ _They need a ship to do it_!”

The scolding banter is something I didn’t realize I missed, “You _both_ need to leave before you’re _caught_.” I nod towards a guard, frozen just at the edge of sight, up one flight of stairs, “See those rifles? They will not hesitate to shoot first and demand answers later. This place is full of _very bad people_. I don’t want you anywhere near here!”

My wife scoffs, pushing back from me as I force my arm to drop from her back, “We can’t exactly move you out of here if you’re not coming permanently. Unless you’re willing to…” The smallest frown wavers, and the crease between her brows scrunches just that much tighter together when she sees the answer on my face. “Their security factors in metas like Vibe, and magic, but they haven’t figured out how to factor in for him.” She nods over at Barry. “Not even a fraction of a second has passed for anyone else, and if you think I’m just leaving without clearing a few things off my chest, then you sir have taken too many hits to the head in your stupid prison brawling!”

I spare a glance at Barry, he confirms with a nod, “As long as I’m touching someone I can keep them at my time, or I can push the speed force to manipulate time around them, it sticks for a little bit. The best we were able to practice at earlier was getting just under a relative hour in a single second by repeated contact, though it hit her hard as soon as she dropped out. It’s not much for uninterrupted conversations, but as long as I recharge the focus every, _again relative_ , few minutes I don’t need to be touching you constantly.”

_Could that actually work?_ “That’s-“

There is a snap, and Felicity points at him then the barred door, “Your cue to leave speedster. See you in four minutes.” She laser focuses on me, ignoring that fact he hasn’t left yet, pulling out a phone from her bag and angrily pressing buttons. I see a timer start before she huffs out, “I’m so pissed with you right now! Not only did you make a decision that dramatically altered our _whole family’s_ lives without any hint of discussion, now I find out you’re apparently picking fights, because there’s no way all this,” Her finger zigzags through the air as Barry makes himself scarce, “is from some accidental altercation!”

It’s not a question, I nod.

She snarls it out, as angry as I’ve ever heard her, “‘ _You should see the other guys?_ ’ Really, Oliver? That’s what you have to say? Not ‘I love you,’ not ‘is everyone ok,’ not anything but essentially ‘I look like hell but they look worse?’ And don’t think for one second I didn’t see that limp you’re trying to hide!” Of course she wouldn’t, it was a cheap shot at a, well not easy weak point, but still a weak point. She mashes the phone even as she talks, “I was going to tempt you with trying to reach William on the phone, but if you’re not interested then I guess I took down the signal blockers on the way in for nothing.”

Quashing down the mix of emotions her words surged up my voice is rough as I can’t hesitate to ask, “Are- Is- You and William, are you two…?” She wouldn’t have asked if I wanted to leave if something had happened, I would have found myself outside of the prison, spelled, drugged, or bound to prevent me from stopping them. I know it. _I know that!_ But I _need_ to hear her say it.

Felicity starts to whip around, ready with some retort, but as I step back she starts moving as fast Barry. Suddenly he’s back in my cell, holding onto my shoulder. “Hey, steady. Keep any movements slow, you’re going faster than a car right now, so if you punch a wall or something you’ll break your fingers.” The feeling of his hand on me raises my hackles again. It’s been too many months, really too many years since it’s been ok to get uninvited contact. Felicity is different, she’s always her, just like William, and Thea, and John. Barry is a nice kid, but I don’t have that same instinctive, habitually reinforced level of trust. I’ve been betrayed too often to relax that easily.

My eyes land on Felicity, seeing her tight lipped, arms crossed, fingers clenching around the phone so tight the screen is staying lit up and now shows five minutes on the timer when just before she started moving faster it showed two. She doesn’t look any happier but covers his hand and says something too quiet for me to hear. One nod at her then me, and Barry disappears in an electric blur. A second passes then she restarts the timer pointedly.

There is a too-long silence before I can’t wait on the answer any longer “How are... How is...”

“Well falling for that multi level marketing scam was a mistake but the cult helped me break free from being a Hun.” A heartbeat of panic has my eyes wide before the angry sarcasm from her voice sinks in. “Oh my god you don't think I'm so stupid as to fall for either of those things?!”

I sit on the bed, looking up at the ceiling to hide the relief. _If she’s just snarky and angry then she’s fine, they’re fine_.

“Of course William was super stressed about it all but as soon as the new neighbors offered a joint he calmed right down.”

“The-! He-! _You gave my son drugs?!_ ”

“ _No_.” She presses the phone again, then pauses, “Well, not pot. But a bad decision thrust upon those you love without their inclusion sucks doesn’t it. I already told you my how hash brownie escapade ended poorly. I don’t want him to have anything like that visit to the ER, struggling to breathe, waiting for the epinephrine to kick in while high, we haven’t had the best luck lately and I’m betting even trying it would go wrong.”

My knuckles crack as I squeeze the blanket, controlling my breathing, “You said ‘not pot’ did you give-”

“ _Did I give_? When I noticed some of my clonazepam was _missing_ at the same time I was having night terrors and he was having these PTSD episodes because of, well everything, it was easy to find the culprit.” She walks in a small circle, the contents of her purse shifting making more noise than her footsteps, her voice going softer, “It helped as we worked through the worst of it and figured out non-prescription solutions to help dial them back so I, and _our son_ , could get through the day. We both _need_ some help during the night.”

The words are like a knife to the gut, but there’s nothing I can say that can help.

“He’s frustrated, going all moody teenager on me…His nose was broken-“

“Wh-!”

She interrupts before I finish the word, “-I know, it’s fine, it healed nearly perfect, he wouldn’t tell me how it happened, still refuses to talk about it. Half the time he’s a little terror, he helps but he’s bored and being bored makes him frustrated. I had to double check all the sex ed info he knows to make sure it was complete,” sarcasm takes over, “super fun and not-at-all awkward conversation there b.t. dubs-.” Something drops deep in the pit of my stomach because that was a continued conversation I should have been having with him, not her, “-Because with the prescription-less glasses and the new haircut- He was always handsome, now he is as popular as you with the girls.”

Long unanswered ringing clicks over to the automated message, listing the number, _again_. Glancing at her I can’t tell if that, this time thing, or his reluctance to answer is the reason it went to voicemail. “Is that going to work?”

Her lips narrow into a thin line, body going rigidly straight, and I get the feeling that she took that as a serious insult with the ferocity that she pressed redial. “The things we touch are moving at the same speed we are, the continuous signal is going out and traveling to our son’s new burner phone, and since Flash’s potential-future-time-traveling-daughter said she’d hold onto it at speed starting at midnight on high ground until the signal intercepted and rang, then she’d pull William into Flash Time and we could have the call, _yes_ it is _going to work_. Or do you want a more technical breakdown, because it took all of us to figure out a way to do this without William actually setting foot inside this place or anywhere else that he could be tracked.”

Hitting end to quit the useless ringing Felicity drops the phone and her bag on the bed she pushes me and I concede to the wordless direction, leaning back as she leans forward. My eyes don’t leave her face as her hand brushes over my scalp, kissing me with a clear desperation. It’s like being where I belong. Home. With family. Forgetting every protest, every concern, I lose myself in the kiss as she straddles my thighs. Reaching out, my hand feels her hip…then her ribs on the way up her body, far too prominent from her sides. Pulling back despite her eager attempts to distract my purpose, a quick reassessment of her face and features obscured by hair and clothing… “You haven’t been eating? Or sick? Or you said money was tight…”

Confusion quickly morphs to anger across her face, “ _What_? Of course I’ve…you _think_ I can’t manage to- Y _ou think I_ _can’t_ take care of the two of- If my mom could- I have a job! It’s not a great job, but being a waitress for cash pays the- _I pay our bills!_ “ She shoves herself away, grabbing the phone again which resumes its ringing as she paces and crosses her arms over her body.

_Shit._ Scrubbing my hands over my face to cover the panic that she’d see, I try to think of a way to argue that I’m not insinuating she’s unable to take care of our family, I’m just concerned about her health. “You know I-“

“Unsurprisingly I’m under a ton of stress. Sometimes between getting _our_ son to school and myself to work, and homework, and _everything_ I skip a few meals but-“ A loud frustrated noise tears from her. Pacing another few steps, redialing again before she runs her hands over her arms then stretches, burning through frustrated energy that burns pink across her cheeks.

It feels wrong, seeing her here, and that feeling grows with every glance she makes out into the hall. “Honey, you need to go. I’m not risking you being caught, not for a fast…fast distraction.”

“It’s worth the miniscule risk. No one will catch us or see anything in the half-blink of time this takes, other than Flash - who got three weeks of nearly sleepless nights’ work to get him ahead enough for this little visit. Even if he doesn’t know my plans for you I know him well enough to guarantee he’ll mind his own business.”

“Plans?”

“ _Plans_. He may be an innocent little angle, probably doesn’t even assume we’ll be going more than PG…”

An unkind tightness curls in my gut while she talks about someone else while talking around her intentions. “And you think we are?”

The ringing tone clicks over to the message again and she curses under her breath, roughly jabbing at the phone to start the cycle again, “What’s the fucking point of letting him stay up if the stupid mountains keep messing with the weather and block the signal?”

I can hear the ringing, but she doesn’t stop talking, just hesitates for a deep breath and resigned sigh as she focuses again on my face, then her voice goes tight, pained, “I know that- For you to get like this…I’ve seen what you can do one-on-one, one-on-five, one-on-a small army of professionally trained killers, No one would be stupid enough to keep going after you, why would you…? Why, Oliver?”

How can I explain the barrage of reasoning that I convince myself of each night? “I could have stopped Dragon. I could have, _I should have killed him_ , ended this. I didn’t.”

“You’re _not_ a killer, we’ve-“

“I’m not taking that risk in here, I’m putting the fear of _me_ into these guys so they and theirs won’t go after any of you while I’m in here.”

Taking the well traveled path from the bars to the back wall she keeps stalking like a wild animal in a trap, _like I did in here at first_ , while I force myself to remain motionless, “I’m _so angry_ with you for all of this!” Her fingers smack the phone, cutting off the automated message, failing to hit redial this time.

Back and forth she quickly stalks in front of me, making my nerves wind tighter. I want her gone. I need her near. _She’s not safe here, but not truly safe out there either_. “I know.”

She’s oblivious, baiting without knowing that her mere presence is bait and each movement hones my attention, makes my skin itch to touch her while fighting the yelling in my head that she needs to be safe and away even more. Her lips keep twitching, like she’s having furious arguments in her head before the rushed accusation tumbles out, “I hate that you _always_ go it alone and sacrifice yourself, _always_ , instead of letting us figure out…”

“ _There was no other way!_ ” A blur of red zooms in, slight pressure from a gloved hand touches mine sending a glow like lightening snaking up my arm. In the same step the lightening circles Felicity as his grip on me lets go. It illuminates the pink streaks through her hair so they practically glow for the one brief instant, a ring glints at her eyebrow and I wonder if the piercing is real…if there are more changes. Barry doesn’t stop, just continues the circuit as any hint of lag in time is refreshed back to speed. He is moving so fast, so much faster even than this glitch of time he allows us to be in, that the glowing after image of him just keeps going forward, planting a foot and launching off the back wall to turn around in the small room while keeping his momentum. Before I can finish closing my eye in a blink he has vanished from my cell.

“ _I refuse to believe that!_ ”

“I…” She wouldn’t be the woman I married if she did, “I know.”

“You know, you _know_ , _you know_! Did you know I had to break ties with Helix Dynamics? You outing yourself as the Green Arrow meant investors either think I’m stupid, or-,“ her laugh is emotionless, “or the more familiar comments to my emails were along the lines of, ‘ _Your husband’s plea deal may keep you from being prosecuted for lying under oath, but that is not the sort of investment risk we’re willing to take_.’ The threats, the bounties that Dragon put out on all of us…John must have told you that the psycho’s still fucking livid. Then add on the fact that our lives went sideways. We can’t even visit, can’t even call because as the weekly anonymized note keeps reminding me _it would make us easy targets_ , traceable, vulnerable.” The bitterness is not hidden from her voice. “Before Flash’d agree to this, even at super speed, I had to hack into the system not to report faults, he insisted on obscuring the cameras, we took down every sensor that could be taken down from outside the prison and will get everything back to ‘normal’ before we leave. Imagine the fit everyone would have to get me in here on a regular visit.”

I just clench my fists, unable to do anything to fix things for her. Saying ‘ _at least you’re all alive_ ’ won’t solve anything, my apologies won’t ease the situation.

 “Ok, at least answer me this,” One step and she’s close again, her fingers skim over my head while I silently stare, “explain what your thoughts were behind cropping your hair so short while growing out this hipster beard at the same time?” Before a response can form she pulls me up into a kiss and my hands instinctively cup her face. It’s too fast, this 180 in the conversation and my brain feels like it stalls out and shrugs in confusion, unsure what to do. _It hurts_. I’ve missed her so much, wanted to know, to see that they’re safe, how they’re doing, anything, everything. To have that proof, _here_ , it’s like heartbreak. The feeling doubles down when my thumbs brush against the tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Felicity…” _What can I say. Honestly, what the fuck can I say?_ When I can’t think of anything I focus on brushing the tears away and drinking in the feel of her lips on mine.

}]}———}>


End file.
